


Wear Yourself as a Mask

by Dragaeth



Series: WIP [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, Gen, Running Away, Secret Identity, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry Potter, Torture, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragaeth/pseuds/Dragaeth
Summary: Hogwarts goes to Durmstrang for the triwizard tournament, and Harry doesn't go because he's underage.His name comes out of the Goblet anyway, but when going to Durmstrang, he 'got lost' in the floo.Will his newfound self-preservation override his need to be a Gryffindor hero?Of course not, but there's a reason he got in Slytherin.uploading every other Sat (hopefully)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: WIP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100000
Comments: 13
Kudos: 117
Collections: Started stories





	1. an opportunist

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have a direction to take this fic and I outlined the ending!! chapters might be shorter tho idk

Harry listened as Malfoy boasted about knowing something from the ministry to Ron, dismissing it as simply leverage over Ron. Why Malfoy would need to prove he's superior, he doesn't know. He held Ron back from throwing spells or something. They entered the great hall, without flying cars or dementors this time, and sat at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the sorting. Once all the nervous first years were distributed to their respective houses, Dumbledore spoke. 

Headmaster Dumbledore stood up from his seat, wearing eccentric dazzling blue robes, and said, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to announce the triwizard tournament has been reinstated! There will be an age limit, of course, those younger than seventeen years cannot participate." His twinkling eyes seemed to drift towards the twins, who visibly deflated. "Our host for this tournament would be Durmstrang, and those wishing to participate are to sign their names on the post in your common room billboards. Thank you!"

The Headmaster sat down as the hall exploded with chatter. "What's the triwizard tournament?" Harry asked Ron, who's face screwed up in comprehension. 

"That's what dad was saying about the ministry!" He waved his drumstick around, gaining a dreamy dazed look. "Mate, imagine all the glory and money you would get if you participated!" His eyes sharpened the same way they do when winning chess, then deflated. "Too bad there's that age limit," he sighed. 

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. "There's a reason why it was discontinued, Ron, people have died from this tournament!"

"Ok, but what is it?" Harry asked impatiently as he watched his friends begin to bicker. He dug into his food as Hermione responded. 

"It's a friendly competition between schools to increase international relations," she responded intellectually. "One student from each school is chosen to compete, but it's very dangerous." She stared sternly at Harry, as if all the dangerous situations he got in were voluntary. "It got shut down in-"

He held up his hands in surrender, slightly offended. "Hey, I'm not gonna bother, I would very much like a quiet year. Since it's at Durmstrang anyway, I doubt anything could go wrong this year… hopefully." He grimaced, suspecting that he would never have a peaceful life.

"Good," she nodded as she went back to her dinner.

\------

The great hall was eerily empty. Well, not empty, but there were a lot less students at the tables, and Dumbledore was missing. The seventh years left the school for Durmstrang, except those who weren't of age. That was why Fred and George were hanging around them more often, constantly playing pranks on Ron as they didn't have Lee Jordan with them. 

At dinner, Harry received a letter among the masses of swooping owls. "Who's that from?" Hermione asked as Ron leaned in towards the envelope. 

Frowning, Harry pet Hedwig absently and replied, "It's from… Professor Dumbledore?" Opening the letter, he read,

_ Dear Harry, _

_ It seems someone has entered your name into the Goblet of Fire, as you are the fourth champion. Your name came out of the Goblet of Fire. I am sorry to say that we cannot retract you from the tournament, as the Goblet’s magic is magically binding, contracting you to compete. I will come by in three days time to escort you to Durmstrang. _

_ Professor Albus Dumbledore _

He read the letter three times, unable to comprehend the words on the page. He didn't notice his hands shaking or the attention he was drawing. 

"Blimey mate, thats.." Ron broke the silence awkwardly, making Harry snap his head up. 

"Oh, Harry, how could this happen?" Hermione asked almost rhetorically, as she realized the answer immediately after. It was Samhain. _He_ was Harry Potter. She unraveled her copy of The Daily Prophet, starring the Goblet of Fire and a baffled looking headmaster Karkaroff, headlines stating, 'Boy-Who-Lived Fourth Champion?!'

"I'm- I need some time," he stated, getting up from the table feeling bone tired, clutching the letter, aware of the worried gazes of his friends. If only he wasn't Harry Potter, maybe he would not almost die every year. What did magically binding even mean anyway? 

After feeling bad for himself while leaning in a hidden passageway for ten minutes, he headed towards the library. Yes, he would even do research to get out of the tournament. He needed to find out what magical contracts did and how to survive if he couldn't get out of it.

Turns out magical contracts were just normal contracts but magical. Since there's no consequence stated in the contract he's in and he didn't put himself into the tournament, it was invalid. The example the book used was conveniently about the triwizard tournament, so there's no questioning it. God he's sounding like Hermione. But then why did Dumbledore say he had to participate? He looked back at the crumpled letter. Did Dumbledore just want two champions? 

Conflicted, he paced around the library, annoying Madam Pince. He knows he that desperately wishes to avoid near death experiences, so attending the tournament was out. But everyone already knows that his name came out of the Goblet. Ignoring the entering Malfoy who was pointing at him, he continued pacing, repeatedly running his hands through his untamable hair. He would need a way to disappear somehow if he didn't want to face the masses or death. If only he wasn't Harry Potter… he stilled. He didn't have to be Harry Potter. Identity theft was a thing in the muggle world, there should be a similar version in the wizarding world. Actually, it would be much easier in the magical world as no one had identity identifying items other than wands, and they could be replaced. He could transfigure his hair to be longer and wear makeup, maybe learn from those spy movies. That was perfect, actually. You can't undo make-up with magic. No wizard wears makeup. He could even change his name. Well, only through muggle means, he's not going through the ministry to reveal his name change.

But that would have to wait. It was getting dark outside, and he didn't want to worry his friends. So, all he did was mentally plan his getaway. It’s not like he'd never daydreamed about it, so he just had to work the details. 


	2. New Identities and its After effects

In three days' time, Dumbledore escorted Harry to one of the Floos, letting Dumbledore lead the way. Inwardly grinning, he followed, purposefully messing up his pronunciation. He stumbled out from an unknown fireplace, choking slightly on the ash as he looked up, quickly pulling over his invisibility cloak over his hunched body, observing his surroundings. He was in a confused pub with patrons glancing at the floo err, fireplace. It was just a muggle bar. That was good. He slowly stood while propping up his trunk, careful to allow the fabric to cover his entire height. He maneuvered himself around the customers, exiting into the sidewalk into the cloudless day. He located a dim alleyway to hide in to apply his stolen makeup from Hermione. The color was a bit off, but it would have to do for now. He contoured his jawline and nose and covered up his scar with concealer, lengthening his hair a bit longer than the twins' and coloring it to have scarlet tips, planning to dye it professionally later. Straight red hair would’ve made him look too much like his mother, he reasoned. He changed his school robes into something more casual, plain black robes lined with red. He was still recognizable, so he would have to get rid of his glasses quickly, but that could be done for later.

Stepping out of the alleyway with his trunk, he summoned the NightBus to Diagon Alley, giving the name Charles Brown. He chose Brown as a surname because it was a really common muggle name, but existed in the wizarding world as well, like Lavender Brown. Charles because of what he knew of his ancestors, and any other names based on his lineage would be too suspicious. After a stomach-churning ride, he got off and visited Gringotts, withdrawing all his money to be placed in another account under the name of Charles Brown, keeping some to buy himself a place to stay.

He had over 50k galleons and the conversion between muggle and wizarding money gives him over 250k in pounds. That was... quite a lot of money Hagrid said would be used on just school materials. His introduction by Hagrid on Dumbledore’s orders seemed strange, now that he thought of it, making an illiterate dropout fetch a new famous student. Taking note of Dumbledore's questionable actions, he left the bank for Flourish and Blotts, buying as many books with unknown material he could carry. He needed to learn if he was to survive, besides, he won’t be attending Hogwarts for the remainder of fourth year. He inconspicuously entered Borgin and Burkes as well, as if he was going to be someone illegal, he may as well go all the way. He skimmed a book that seemed to be about mind reading and immediately bought it, along with other little useful trinkets. If mind reading was possible, he wouldn't want his identity at risk. Briefly taking off his glasses to buy the book, he left for the muggle world, confounding a muggle property owner into renting him an apartment located near the leaky. 

The apartment was well furnished with one bedroom and bathroom with a pristine marble kitchen with wooden floorboards. There were giant windows facing the east and west, having the best lighting. The living room was carpeted and had a comfy couch and a TV, a fireplace to the left. He should buy a computer, he thought to himself. Ah, to use electricity again. 

Satisfied for the day, he ordered his first ever pizza and fell asleep on a full stomach.

\-----

Meanwhile at Durmstrang,

"Now, Harry, please come to the- Harry? Harry?" Dumbledore called out sharply as he stepped out of the floo, alarmed, twisting around to face the empty fireplace where Harry was supposed to follow him out of. The three Headmasters stared at the empty floo for a beat before Karkaroff broke the silence. 

"So, where is Potter?" He asked condescendingly in a thick accent.

"He must've gotten lost in the floo," Dumbledore stated confidently, though dreading the consequences of a lost Harry Potter, eyes dimming. Without him, someone might become a victim and not come out alive from the tournament. "Oh dear… I don't think he would be coming here anytime soon if he is truly lost."

"What do we tell ze students?" Madam Maxime prompted. "Zey are expecting Potter today."

"Why, the truth of course!" He smiled genially, though he had no idea where to go from there. "I shall inform the ministry to look for Harry in case he shows up somewhere."

\-----

Harry woke up, stretching in the sunlight coming from the window. This was much better than the Dursleys, he thought as he looked out the window, listening to the car traffic. He didn't originally intend to live under a different identity, but it solved so many problems, he reflected. Well, it was just one problem that complicated every other situation, but still. 

He got dressed in his horrid muggle clothes and reheated his leftover pizza, heading out to replace his muggle clothes to actually look good and fit him, buying a few fitted jeans, sweaters, and shirts, makeup that suited his skin-tone. He also came across an optometrist office and got a pair of prescription contacts and square eyeglasses, just in case. He looked quite different now, skin blemish-free with long hair, softer jawline and cheekbones, wearing fitted clothes. He could see differently too, everything was crisp and clean and he could see the grooves of the trees! Why didn't he do this earlier? He'd been missing out.

When he got home on a cab, he made himself tea and sat on the old sofa, opening up his textbooks, laying out the Marauders map on his left to align his reading material to his friend's current class. They were in potions. Hah, sucks for them, he could make potions by himself...with no supervision..yeah. He should learn how to vanish things first just in case. This was more complicated than he estimated, teaching himself. Sighing resignedly, he flipped through all his transfiguration books, looking for the vanishing spell, and went to practice. 

(no ministry letter because he’s close enough to the leaky)

\-----

At Hogwarts…

Hermione choked out her soup as she read the headlines. 

**Boy-who-lived Lost!?**

_ Rita Skeeter _

_ Dear readers, as you all know from my last article, Harry Potter's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, making him the fourth champion! However, when Dumbledore came to escort the boy, he is said to have gotten lost in the Floo! According to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he was following right behind him but never appeared on the other side. where is our boy-who-lived? Is he truly lost? Has he been kidnapped? Is the boy-who-lived still living?….. _

The great hall descended into silence, full of the sound of the rustling of paper. Then the whispers started up gradually. "Ron.." Hermione prompted worriedly. "Do you think he is really lost? I mean.." She looked pleadingly at him, searching his face for a hint of denial. She’s been trying to watch Harry’s reactions for the past few days for signs of a breakdown, but she wasn’t ready for this.

"Sorry Hermione," Ron scratched his neck sheepishly. "But remember second year? When Harry got into Knockturn Alley accidentally? He's not good with floo travel at all!" 

They stared at each other as Hermione started to think of the worst, eyes burning. "Whoa, hey, hey, Hermione. Remember who we're talking about! Harry, who helped save the philosopher's stone, who slain a basilisk, who fought off a hundred dementors. Hermione, he'll be fine, he's strong. He'll survive wherever he is." He hugged her awkwardly, abandoning his food, trying to comfort her.

Hermione, glad for the reminder that Harry was very hard to kill, nodded frantically and hugged Ron back, ignoring the eyes on them. 

The whole school seemed to be in a glum mood after the article, even Malfoy, surprisingly. He didn't even try to pick on them for losing Harry, probably because the other Gryffindors played shield for the duo. The classes still went on as Hermione exhausted herself with worry. There had to be a way to track him down somehow, she thought to herself as she searched through the library.

\-----

Harry finished up his studying, finally getting down the vanishing spell and starting on occlumency. Reading was actually pretty fun if you didn't have Snape and other deadly concerns looming over him. He missed Hogwarts already, along with Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't risk contact. He would just have to befriend them as Charles Brown some other way. Possibly Hogsmeade? Sure, he could crash into them and have a butterbeer with them. Ah, well, now that that's settled, he had to create his false identity. He would need a birth certificate first and foremost. 

Born at St. Mary's hospital, his biological parents Lillian and John Brown. A boring pair of a halfblood and a squib/muggle. There. Those names were common enough to have so it would be even harder to track down. He did the same for health insurance and other important documents, ensuring his existence. He would have to emancipate himself at some point, to live alone and have deceased parents. 

Spotting Hedwig flying in the night sky from his window, he rushed to her, offering some nuts. "Sorry girl, you're beautiful but you're too recognizable, would you mind if I change your feather color?" He praised her, hoping she would understand, berating himself for forgetting Hedwig. She bobbed her head as he attached a color charm on her, coloring her wings black, keeping her underbelly white. "I’ve got a letter for you, but rest for today, alright?" he murmured as Hedwig preened her newly colored black feathers, settling down on her perch contently. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 povs? im going nuts. also i read this like 10x so i dont even know if its good or not, give me feedback lol


	3. the Familiar Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Ron and Hermione.

A month has passed, days so far filled with studying and flying, with the occasional indulgence of gaming. He was already ahead in his classes, if he was counting correctly. Though, he was terribly lonely, with only Hedwig for company and longed to contact his friends. He has already sent them a letter, containing a copy of the occlumency book and information of what he was doing. Not the full story of course, just the part where he was trying to live a peaceful life away from the Boy-Who-Lived fame. They probably already figured out he was trying to go under another name, to be honest. Then there was his beloved godfather Sirius, who always did his best to help Harry. He, like Harry, would probably benefit from another identity as well. He sent Sirius a letter, explaining his situation in a bit more detail, and offered to help him create an identity if he wished. He denied his proposal, surprisingly, not trusting himself to not share the secret when asked about it. But he was willing to provide him with means of hiding himself better, being one of the best pranksters, to teach him the way of the Marauders, the skill of sneaking around undetected, and was given an unlocking knife and a mirror to communicate with Sirius without letters as an early christmas present. After having a conversation through the mirror, Sirius recommended him getting colored contacts, of which he did, getting brown contacts. 

But now Charles was nervously preparing himself to meet his friends, an encounter he’s been mentally planning and reviewing for a month, feeling dirty and ashamed. He grimaced, checking the time. They usually came out during noon, he should be heading out. He wandered around hogsmeade, buying a few sweets and ‘accidently’ dropping them near his friends, who helped pick them up. 

"Whoa, sorry, thanks by the way," Charles nodded to Ron and Hermione, who just handed him his chocolate frogs, noses pink from the cold. 

"No problem mate," Ron replied absently as Hermione’s eyes searched his face, frowning.

"Are you from Hogwarts?" 

"Er, no? I don't believe we've met. Charles P-Brown," he deepened his voice, immediately regretting his disguise. He should’ve transfigured his nose or something. God, he was still so recognizable, and Hermione could probably spot him from a mile away, especially since he stole  _ her _ makeup. He held out his hand, hoping they didn't notice him dramatically changing his posture. 

"Hermione Granger, this is Ron Weasely," she replied politely, shaking his hand. "Where do you go to school then?" 

"I'm homeschooled," he replied too quickly, speech almost overlapping with Hermione's, trying very hard to not look suspicious and failing, face red. "Sorry, I'm not very good at socializing," he fumbled with his scarf to keep him from scratching his neck, hoping against all odds they wouldn't be wary of him. 

"Really? How different is it to the Hogwarts curriculum?" He watched as Hermione went into her scholarly mode, ready to absorb any information given to her. 

"Well, I learn the same things you learn at Hogwarts essentially, though it depends on your parents what you're taught." He informed her while side-eyeing Ron, who was physically drifting away from the conversation. "Er, well, it seems I've taken up enough of your time, I-" he flushed as Hermione interrupted him.

“No, no, it’s fine. Ron,” she glared chastizedly at him until he turned back sheepishly to the conversation. 

“Sorry ‘mione, but look,” he pointed in the direction behind Charles, causing him to turn around. “Its…” he trailed off, watching his twin brothers stealthily approach who they all assumed to be their next victim with apprehension. 

“Gah!” Ron cried out as he stumbled to the ground, as Charles flinched at the noise, turning back to find the disturbance. 

“Oh, boys, haven't you played enough pranks on him already?” Hermione’s voice said completely exasperated. “How did you do that though?” she added, frowning at the place they just saw the twins, now empty. Har- Charles, too, was curious. 

“New product we’re working on,” Fred? stated playfully, crouching to level himself with Ron. 

“It’s like an illusion, it shows up there but we’re actually here. We’re still working on it, though. Hey, who’s your new friend?” they finally noticed Charles, who felt increasingly more self-conscious. 

“I’m Charles Brown, homeschooled. I might be attending Hogwarts next year, though.” He added, realizing his introduction was really boring. 

“Are you going to be in what, third year?” Ron asked curiously, brushing himself off. 

Harry blinked. “Am I really that short?” he turned to face Hermione, who in turn elbowed Ron just as he was just getting up from the floor. 

“Ow! Hey, I was just curious!” Ron cried indignantly as the twins sniggered. 

“Ah, well, I’ll be testing in for fifth year classes, I suppose, what year are you in?” he shrugged, lips tugging up, amused at the familiar interactions that he’s missed so much.

“Fourth year,” Ron and Hermione responded in unison, glancing at each other, slightly disturbed.

“Well, Charlie Brown of homeschooled, nice meeting you! But we must be off,” the twins bowed theatrically.

“We have more mischief to make!” George exclaimed as they disappeared out of view just as suddenly as they appeared, leaving the three to their own conversation.

As the day came to an end, he bid his goodbyes and promised to meet them again, feeling an ache of longing towards his friends. He hadn’t realized how painful it would be to have to play stranger to his friends, but he couldn't backtrack now, he would much rather have his friends and his own life over lost memories. Until his friends could learn Occlumency and keep him secret, they would have to be kept in the dark. 

However, instead of heading home, he entered Hogwarts using Honeydukes’ entrance. After meeting his friends, he was feeling quite nostalgic as a sense of longing tugged on him, leading him through the halls under his cloak. 

He didn’t plan on going into the Chamber of Secrets until he walked by the bathroom. It was probably a bad idea. Looking out for Myrtle, who was probably hiding in a stall, he quietly stepped into the bathroom and hissed at the sink. The sink groaned as it opened up, revealing a long pipe going downwards. He slipped down while hissing  _ close  _ to the gate. He landed on a bunch of old bones, same as last time. He didn't explore the chambers last time, and it never occurred to him that Slytherin might hide some other things with the basilisk, but, well, who builds a huge underground chamber just for their pet snake? With his newfound eyesight, he spotted a few blocks of stone cut in a door shape, actively ignoring the basilisk carcass. Approaching the structure, he rapped his knuckles onto the stone, stinging slightly on impact. It was hollow. There was no door handle on the block of stone, so he said  _ open _ again. Nothing happened. As he left to find other potential entrances, he heard a gear shift from behind. He turned back around, facing the entrance as it pushed inward and moved into the left wall with a thump, making the ground vibrate. 

As the door opened, he was hit with a whiff of what felt like acidic fingernails scraping on paper. He cringed, covering his nose with his robes, ignoring the sudden grit his clenched teeth had. There had to be an air freshening charm or something. The bubblehead charm existed, he realized, releasing his nose whilst casting the charm. Phew. Fresh air. He surveyed the room, casting a lumos. There were three bookshelves on the right and a desk on the left on a dusty red carpet, unlit torches littering the walls. It seemed like Slytherin's study, the desk piled with notes. He wouldn’t know what to do with those, really. After flipping through a few random pages on the desk and books on the shelves, he determined that it was all in old English or some sort of Latin. He didn’t have a dictionary or a translation spell, if those even existed. There were a few notes by Tom Riddle calling himself Voldemort, but only as parchments stuck into the old books, and were incoherent by themselves.The only item in the room that would be of use was the wardstone, taking up half the wall space. However, he didn’t know pants about warding either, so that was useless as well. Though, it did explain how the DADA position was cursed. 

Sighing, he carded his fingers through his hair, spinning around and walking out of the room, not closing the door. That place needed ventilation. He forgot he couldn't get out, as he couldn’t climb the pipe. He tried, sprinting up like it was a playground slide, but slid down uselessly. When he came to the base of the entrance, he turned around to find another exit, footsteps echoing through the chamber. Hopefully there was another one, or else he’d be crawling through pipes for nothing and die of hunger. He climbed through the labyrinth of pipes, overhearing bits of lectures from the classrooms. He may or may not have thrown a single one of Hedwig’s nuts into Malfoy’s cauldron through a hole in the wall. He came across an opening to the Forbidden Forest, of which he stayed on the edge until he knew where he was going. He crossed through the forest, mindful of the leaves and branches and Aragog. Stumbling through the brambles, he made his way to hogsmeade, this time to actually go home. Legs worn and weary, he flooed back home and peeled off his clothes, heading straight for bed, ignoring the just darkening pink sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback?


	4. communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha-when u try to establish an updating schedule just to ignore it and watch a load of tiktoks but ur desperately tryina get ur life together and u need a schedule to do that- yes. -finger guns-

After that, all he did was study. Study warding, arithmancy, and runes, his regular classes. Of course, he always made time for Hogsmeade weekends, interacting with his friends and conversing with those from different houses, in case he ended up in one of them, but he really wanted to have a competent consistent DADA teacher, so he had to change the curse on the wardstone. To do that though, he had to know wards, which needed runes and arithmancy, both of which he didn’t take because..well, he didn’t know, but he deeply regretted it now. Only parselmouths were the only ones who could access the warding stone, and Voldemort wasn’t going to reverse the curse anytime soon probably, so he had to do it. God, Tom Riddle was an absolute asshole. Why did he curse the DADA position instead of the headmasters? Dumbledore was his enemy, after all, so it just made no sense and the students never learned anything of value. Well, Dumbledore could be just really bad at hiring people for the DADA position, but that was highly unlikely. He was still trying to grasp some of the more basic concepts of warding while advancing in the other areas. He had to learn ahead in charms and transfiguration to be able to learn potions safely, and surprise, surprise, he wasn’t bad at potions, Snape was just a terrible teacher.

Chair scraping as he got up, he stretched, peering through the window. He was expecting a letter from the ministry. He forged a letter from his alleged mother, stating that she was a half-blood and wished to enroll her son into Hogwarts for the next year, and was expecting a testing date for himself to be placed in a year. He was getting quite impatient, it’s been almost a week, and he hadn’t gotten a response.

\-----

Eventually, summer came, along with the tests and other ministry things. He could get officially emancipated by the ministry with the excuse of having dead guardians, as there was a recent car accident nearby, and could claim the woman inside to be her mother, as the name didn’t matter because he could easily say that she created a muggle identity different from her wizarding one, hopefully preventing outsiders from prodding into his history too much, having family who recently died. 

Charles explained his fabricated situation to Hermione over the phone, gaining her sympathy and his own guilt as she updated him about the ongoings of Hogwarts in an attempt to distract him. She stressed about the happenings of the tournament, as Cedric came directly to Hogwarts dead without explanation when he should’ve appeared at Durmstrang at the end of the tournament. Harry himself knew it was a death trap set for him, and his gut clenched at the thought of someone else being the victim in place of him. He had a vision, of sorts, about Voldemort and Wormtail speaking about killing someone, most likely himself. There was really no turning back now.

“Hermione, of course it's totally suspicious, Potter’s name came out of the Goblet! Someone probably put his name in hoping he died!” he interrupted her rant, internally resigned and hollow as he watched Hermione’s owl reach his window. 

“But then why would Cedric..?” she trailed over the phone, frustrated. 

He huffed. “Well, that I don’t know, no one does! It’s weird but we don’t have the pieces to put it together!” they reached a stalemate in their conversation, both lines silent. Well, time to change the topic then. “Who do you think will be the next DADA teacher?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“Probably Professor Moody again, to be honest. He didn’t have a deadly encounter involving Harry somehow,” she stated curiously, ending in a wistful tone. 

Yes, this was odd, for Moody to not have almost died. He has tampered with the warding stone, but not enough to possibly alter the curse. 

“Isn’t that kinda weird, though? Like, isn’t the position cursed or something?” he asked, hoping for more insight while tearing open the letter, keeping the phone in place with his shoulder.

“Yes, but, well, one can only hope we have Moody again,” she wearily agreed. He pictured her nodding through the line as they made small talk before hanging up to read the letter. 

The contents of the letter explained much more he wished to know, as it was addressed to Harry Potter, not Charles Brown. 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ How are you? We’ve been so worried! I know you said you were safe, but we could never know for sure, with You-Know-Who back. Oh, we have so much to tell you, Harry. We think he’s back because Cedric’s body came back dead with a knife wound and no other scratches which was really strange, and Dumbledore thinks the blood was used in a ritual to bring him back. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but because your name also came out of the Goblet and the things that happened in your first year _

Huh, Hermione was a better actor than he thought. At least over the phone, she was.

_ Anyway, since Hermione kept throwing out drafts for this letter, I’m taking over. Mate, Dumbledore started up the Order of the Phoenix again, the people fought You-Know-Who in the last war. We’re at the Headquarters right now, with Lupin, Snape, Moody, Mcgonagall, some other teachers and a bunch of others you don’t know. _

_ Apparently the Moody who taught us last year wasn’t Moody at all, and was someone polyjuiced as him because we found real Moody locked in a trunk in fake-Moody’s private quarters. We don’t know who fake-Moody was, but it makes you think something big was going on, which is why we think He’s back. And remember the Death Eaters at the World cup? That was crazy! And your scar! The Order doesn’t know that we’re talking to you, don’t worry, live out your peaceful life, but you better invite us to wherever you are when our occlumency shields get better!! Which should be soon, mate, you better not disappear on us again like that. Did you know Snape knows legilimency? He’s been looking into our thoughts this entire time, the slimy git! He even had the nerve to look surprised when we blocked his intrusion! _

_ Also, Hermione made this thing so we can all communicate without sending letters, since all our letters coming in are being read. She used the proteam charm and something else on this bracelet or ring, whatever you chose, and forced me to learn something called the morse code? I dunno, it's a bunch of dots and lines but apparently it's a secret language. I’m still figuring it out but it squeezes your wrist with the morse code and you send a message by pressing the green jewel before tapping your bracelet/ring with the pattern. See you soon, mate! _

_ -H & R _

The letter brought a huge grin to his face. Trust his friends to adapt with his dangerous situations, he thought, immensely relieved by the familiarity and the lack of malice for worrying them like that. Tracing over the letters, he mulled over how he would be setting up as his house to let them visit him. He brushed it off, planning to think of it later, dreading his potential response. They wouldn’t be happy if he said he wouldn’t be... The bracelet in the package was a simple silver band with a red and green jewel on each side, which fitted onto his left wrist the moment he put it on. Hermione seemed to have included a translation guide to morse code, of which he memorized. 

_.--. / .. ... / - .... .. ... / .-- --- .-. -.- .. -. --. _

_ (P is this working?) _

He got an immediate response from the both of them, which just resulted in the bracelet spasming incoherently around his wrist. Smiling, he returned with,

_ .--. / -.. / -....-. _

_ (P wait, don’t understand) _

The movement of his bracelet died down as he deciphered a coherent sentence. 

.... / -.-- --- ..- .-. . / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / ... - ..- -.. -.-- .. -. --. / .-. .. --. .... -

_ (G youre still studying right) _

.-. / --- .... / -.-. --- -- .. / --- ..-. ..-. / .. - / -- .. --- -. ..

(W oh comi off it mioni)

He snickered at the mistake and proceeded to correct his alphabet. He and Hermione then proceeded to dominate the conversation, having used computers and were somewhat familiar with abbreviated words, teaching Ron all the shorthand vocabulary they knew and abbreviating other words to be incomprehensive to outsiders, even if they knew morse code. After talking to each other throughout the day, reunited and finally at peace, he came back to his present once again, all too aware of his lonely, quiet one-bedroom apartment with the news channel on as his friends went to sleep, listening to the occasional speeding cars outside, resisting the urge to wake them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not doing the morse code every time they talk so its just gonna be in parenthesis in the future.
> 
> feedback?


	5. Slytherin?

Charles and Hermione were invited to stay at the Burrow for the last two weeks of summer, probably out of protective pity. He felt like a familiar stranger to the house, longing to make inside jokes that he wasn’t supposed to know. He congratulated Ron and Hermione on their prefect badges as Ron dealt with the twins taunting him, spluttering. Ron was beet red by the end of the celebration, with Hermione still lecturing him on his prefect responsibilities. He turned his pleading eyes onto him, in which Charles took mercy on him and loudly asked, “Ginny, are you going to try out for Quidditch?” as Ron slumped in his seat. 

“Yeah Ginny, we need a seeker or else we can’t play. You know how the Slytherins crushed us for the house cup last year! It was horrible! Malfoy was so snobbish that I almost cursed him in potions.” Ron diverted the attention onto Ginny, hoping to keep it there for a while. It did, and Charles was able to tune out a bit, attention going to his wrist. Ron was complaining to him about everyone’s reaction about being a prefect, like it was such a surprise to them. Charles, who was wearing wrist supporters to hide his recognizable bracelet, pretended to massage his wrist as he replied.

_ (P its urs u deserve it) _

_ (W ik but u would b prefect if u were here) _

_ (P nah, bwl too much danger, anyway im not any better than u) _

_ (W thx m8 needed that) _

He smiled at Ron relaxed, placing his prefect’s badge into his pocket. 

“Oh Charles, what happened to your hand?” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, noticing Harry massaging his black wrist support.  _ Oh shit he didn’t-  _

“Nothing, it's for..sentimental value,” he finished lamely. He knew it was a cheap manipulation tactic, but it was just so convenient.

“Oh, I was so sorry to hear about your mother, dear. You’re always welcome here if you ever need help,” Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly, making Harry feel hollow inside. There he was, blatantly manipulating one of his favorite, most considerate p[erson he knew and using her feelings to his advantage. For what? He didn’t want her to worry over him for some lie he told her, but what else could he do?

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he mumbled, throat strained and slightly scratchy, falling into an awkward silence.

“So, um, what house do you think you’ll be in?” Hermione asked him, breaking the tension. 

_ Slytherin,  _ Charles’ mind supplied scathingly as he said, “I don’t know, actually. I love learning, I would never abandon my friends, and I am quite ambitious  _ (a  _ **_lie_ ** _ ) _ , but I can also be brave. Each trait from each house, I don't know where I would fit in best,” he ‘admitted’, not letting himself think he was a Slytherin. 

Potentially being in Slytherin stayed on his mind when he went shopping in Diagon Alley the next day, not really buying anything as he had the books from his last haul, getting taunted by Malfoy as he thought Charles poorer than the Weasleys. He was just about to retort back like he was Harry, until he realized Malfoy seemed to be doing this out of habit, taunting Potter. He currently wasn’t Harry Potter though, so he didn’t respond like him. He simply ignored the git, wondering if he should or shouldn’t get sorted into Slytherin just to mess with him. He already had allies in Slytherin after all, he considered as he tried to find a compartment on the Express, joining Ginny in searching, stumbling upon Neville struggling with his trunk. He carefully kept his mouth shut as he let Ginny do all the talking. 

“...and this is Charles Brown. He was homeschooled but will be joining the fifth years,” she introduced him as they settled in the compartment with a strange girl, Luna Lovegood. She had a permanently dreamy look, reading the Quibbler upside down with her wand behind her left ear. She didn’t speak, but just stared at him for a while before going back to her newspaper. Right. Moving on. Charles was a stranger to Neville, so he sat nearest to the door, next to Ginny as Neville excitedly demonstrated what his new plant could do, covering them all with a wretched smelling stinksap. He brushed off his stuttered apologies goodnaturedly, scorgifying the substance away. They played a few rounds of exploding snap, Ginny and Charles, before settling down to eat the candy bought from the trolley. It was an hour until Ron and Hermione entered the compartment, Ron flopping down, immediately and grabbing whatever food lay there, complaining about Malfoy as Hermione joined him, going on about Parkinson. 

They arrived at Hogwarts as he was separately introduced to the school as a transfer by Dumbledore, bringing him a lot of unwanted attention. Malfoy glared at him as he approached the stool, which he ignored. The hat was placed onto him as he pulled up his strongest occlumency shields. 

_ Ah, ready to take your rightful place in Slytherin this time?  _ The Hat projected into his mind, seemingly disgruntled. “SLYTHERIN!” it called out before Harry could respond. Caught slightly off-balance, he sat on the stool a beat longer than he should’ve after the hat was removed, inwardly groaning. He nodded in the direction of Ron and Hermione and turned to smirk at Malfoy, who was openly glaring at him.  _ What, Malfoy, did you not act appropriately when meeting a fellow Slytherin?  _ He inwardly sneered loud enough to cover up his panicking inner monologue. Walking confidently and taking his place at the gap closest to Malfoy just to piss him off further, he watched the first years get sorted into their respective houses. He officially introduced himself to his fellow Slytherins who...were all purebloods. Right. Being in Slytherin was gonna be hard. The last halfblood in Slytherin became a dark lord, so he needed to be careful to not accidentally build a following. There might be no correlation between being halfblood and a dark lord, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. 

Snape, surprisingly, was a decent head of house, though he never interfered with Slytherin political conflicts. However, he didn’t dismiss claims of the philosopher’s stone being threatened like McGonagall did, and took claims of Malfoy who said three students were smuggling a dragon out of Hogwarts seriously. He was still an asshole, but was much more pleasant to him as he was to Harry Potter. Seriously, why did Snape hate him so much?

\--

He was somewhat integrated into Slytherin, constantly being a bit of an outsider, drifting to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. He was mildly civil to those who he suspected to be Death Eater children, and got along well with those who were neutral. He had no political influence, so he was sometimes treated as the dirt beneath their shoes, especially Malfoy. That was fine though, he expected a bit of that. Blaise was an ally, he was neutral enough and seemed to enjoy watching Malfoy suffer. He understood that not all Slytherins were ‘evil’ or whatever, but they had families that would pressure them into serving Voldemort, so it was never really safe for him to share his allegiance. Which, to be honest, was to himself and his friends, but were aligned more closely with Dumbledore. If he lied and said he was on the team with Voldemort, he shuddered at the thought, he would have to support Voldemort’s ideals, of which he didn’t. And support Malfoy probably.

His DADA Professor was indeed Moody, though he seemed far more paranoid than Charles remembered him, his prosthetic eye constantly darting around and jumping at the slightest sound. He stuck strictly to the curriculum and was pretty against casting unforgivables. He still did demonstrations, yes, and kept on slightly traumatizing students, but there were slight changes that his classmates latched onto, conscious or not, and the other students couldn’t quite grasp the fact that this man taught them last year. It was quite clear to the trio that this was a different Moody, the real one who attended Order meetings.

He contemplated joining the Slytherin quidditch team, but quickly realized the risks greatly outweighed the benefits. His flying style was quite distinct, and he would be actively going against Gryffindor, and felt like being traitor to his former house whenever he thought of it. So instead, he flew in secret under his cloak around the forbidden forest with his shrunken down broom he wore as a pendant.

After a few weeks, he was called up into Dumbledore’s office, password chocolate frogs. He was stressed throughout the whole day, almost gaining a headache, neck too tense. When he finally went up into Dumbledore’s familiar office, he silently panicked behind his shaky occlumency shields, recognizing Fawkes. Could he see through his disguise? 

“Ah, hello Charles, take a seat,” Dumbledore, wearing red robes greeted from behind the desk, voice grounding him. “Lemon drop?”

“No thank you Professor, but why was I called up here?” he asked nervously, taking a peek at the man, eyes wandering to the sleeping portraits, unable to look at him.

“Straight to the point, then? I wanted to see how well you’re settling in Hogwarts, we rarely get any transfers, you see,” Dumbledore stated kindly, sucking on a lemon drop. 

“Oh, it's quite wonderful, I’ve never really had friends before,” Charles admitted, only half lying. “I was afraid that Slytherins were going to be mean, being halfblood, but they’re quite alright. I enjoy Blaise and Theo’s company enough, and the other houses also made me feel welcome,” he looked up, feeling slightly more at ease. 

“Why, that’s great to hear Hogwarts has been welcoming to you, Charles. Any trouble in your classes? Arithmancy and Runes are quite difficult subjects, I don’t know how much you’ve learned at home.” Fawkes flew off his porch, slightly startling the two as it circled around the room, leaving a flaming trail.

“Thats… yes sir, I’ve been studying runes and arithmancy over the summer, so it is difficult at times, but the teachers here are great!” he inwardly winced at that statement, thinking of  _ QuirrelLockhartFakeMoody,  _ eyes tracking the phoenix. 

Dumbledore took a moment to speak, piercing blue eyes studying him as he fidgeted. “Very well, I won’t bother you any further, but my door is always open to you if you need anything,” he looked meaningfully at Charles, blue eyes seemingly conveying some secret message.

“Thank you, sir.” Taking this as dismissal, he left Dumbledore’s office walking past the gargoyle, feeling oddly exposed from the simple interaction. He dazedly headed towards Gryffindor tower, still mulling over the conversation, trying to find if there was some weird hidden message for Harry Potter if he was somehow found out. He bumped into Neville, making him fumble with the potted plant.

“Oh, so sorry Neville, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. You alright?” Harry asked as he suddenly realized where he was going, berating himself for his absentmindedness. Neville dismissed it, mumbling something about mandrakes. Charles, now the only one in the hall besides the portraits, turned around awkwardly and headed to his  _ Slytherin  _ common room. What were mandrakes used for anyway? Potions, petrified people, animagus...he really shouldn’t be considering that. He had OWLs to prep for. But Sirius..nope, he denied fiercely to himself. He would probably support him, but his grades did matter. Besides, he could do it with his friends over the summer if his friends agreed.


	6. away and back to school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry reveals his identity to his friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its late! but have this

He kept up with his studies, rubbing in his intellect to Malfoy, competing with him in potions, feeling extra smug at Snape, who was unknowingly giving Harry Potter points and somewhat complimenting his potions. He was surprisingly decently respected in the Slytherin house. Well technically, he was mostly ignored, which was what he preferred. Days, months passed as Charles led a completely normal school life. 

Of course, it couldn’t last forever, as he first started to notice Malfoy with eyebags. Malfoys never get eyebags. Charles started stalking him with the map, only to find him intermittently off the map after reaching the seventh floor. Using his hidden bracelet, he informed Ron and Hermione of this, and to keep an eye on Malfoy. They complained about not having the map, rightfully so, but he couldn’t just leave it to them. How else could he alert them of anything fishy he observed going on as a student and not from the map? Then the Katie Bell incident, where she was cursed with some package meant for Dumbledore. It worried them all, the trio, but Ron and Hermione never shared too much with Charles. They were very expressive with Harry though, wrist buzzing with theories. He concluded that Malfoy was doing Death Eater things.

He left the speculation for later though, because he promised Ron and Hermione that he would be seeing them soon and would be sharing his secret identity- safely stored away their occlumency shields. Over the winter break, Harry invited them to his (illegally) rented apartment. 

“Alright, Harry, so what was your plan? Who are you?” Hermione asked eagerly, brown eyes taking in her surroundings. Ron’s eyes focus on his wrist supporter, frowning thoughtfully. 

“Well, actually, you already know me as Charles Brown,” he stated sheepishly, nervously watching for their responses. 

“You’re a Slytherin!” Ron blurted out unhelpfully, face twisted in something like a grimace. 

“Harry James Potter,” Hermione slowly said in a scarily low tone as Harry resigned himself to whatever the fates have decided for him.

“Yes?” he squeaked out. 

Her face brightened up. “Thank you. Ron, you owe me a Galleon,” she turned to face Ron, who fumbled with his robes, grumbling. 

“Wait, hang on, you bet on me being Harry Potter?” he asked incredulously.

“She flopped onto the scratchy brown sofa. “Yeah, I mean, the timing made it quite obvious, and your handwriting is the same,” she concluded easily. "But i don't think anyone else noticed, we just know you too well," Hermione rushed to finish as Harry's mouth formed an o, face increasingly alarmed.

“And I-” started Ron, “took her bet but realized she was right, so,” he trailed off, glaring at the ceiling, arms crossed. 

“And you guys didn’t bother telling me because….” he trailed off looking expectantly at the two of them.

“Well. there was always a small chance it was just a huge coincidence, so we waited for today,” she smiled innocently at him, her hands now holding the marauder’s map.

Harry looked towards Ron for any sort of explanation. “Fred and George got bored,” he stated simply. 

“Ah.” Silence. “So, what’s going on with the order?”

“Well, nothing really. They were just informed of Dumbledore’s suspicions. There’s no evidence, after all,” Hermione butted in from the sofa.

“Fair, fair. Hermione, why are you watching the map?” Harry asked curiously, leaning in, shifting himself to sit on the arm of the sofa, Ron walking around the apartment investigating muggle appliances.

“Malfoy’s on the map,” she replied.

“What about him? We can’t do anything here,” Ron called from the other side of the room, back turned to them. “Whoa! What is this?” Ron exclaimed, making the two look up.

“That's a computer, Ron,” Hermione informed him as the screen changed.

“A computer? What does it do?” he asked curiously.

“You can, uh, play games and search for information, watch movies and videos. It’s really useful,” Harry explained.

“What are movies and videos?”

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other in horror, getting up from their seats and rushed to Ron’s side. “I can’t believe wizards don’t have movies, oh my god, how do any of you live- oh dear, you don’t have news channels either, Jesus- wait no, wizarding wireless-” Hermione muttered under her breath, fingers typing away in the search bar presumably to find whatever movie was suitable for Ron to watch. A few video titles popped up when she pressed enter. “Okay, Ron, we’re going out,” she stated as she grabbed her coat followed by Harry, a baffled Ron mimicking their actions from behind. 

“Going out where?” he asked incredulously, wearing his weathered cloak anyway.

“To blockbusters, duh! Come on, go, go! The store’s closing down soon!” She impatiently called for the boys to catch up, foot already out of the apartment complex followed by people who had to remind her that the KnightBus existed and would be faster. 

After two slightly gut-wrenching rides, the trio returned to the apartment with multiple documentaries about muggle inventions and their functions, something Ron watched with unnerving attentiveness after he stopped fawning over the length of the ‘picture' as Harry and Hermione worked on developing Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater theories. 

Winter break was quite the adventure, really, full of days visiting muggle shops and museums, Ron learning more about electronics and Harry understanding the concept of healthcare as Hermione guided the two through the muggle world. Harry made a day for Sirius to come visit with no knowledge of his other identity, messing around in the muggle world (legally, of course,) under different disguises at amusement parks, watching shows and whatnot. But sadly, winter break had to end and they went back to school and into hiding, feeling more content than they've ever really been.

\---

But of course, back at Hogwarts they had many more stressful things going on, the Malfoy theory and OWLs to prepare for, career choices to be made. Charles Brown didn’t know what he wanted to do. He liked defense, he contemplated in his other common room. He wanted to teach defense, but with that bloody curse on the position- there was the ward stone but he would need help-

( _P mione wdyk abt wardin)_

_(G not much y)_

_(P wardstone in cos)_

_(W harry fr u gotta stop droppin these bombs istm)_

_(G frfr wth w8 tmr put defense curse ?)_

_(P ye idk y)_

_(G prolly got rejected from job lmao)_

_(W ew imagine tmr teaching us)_

_(P hes pretty handsome tho)_

_(W m8 wot)_

_(G Harry huh)_

_(P im jk haha,)_ he muffled a chuckle nervously, muscles forcing his creeping smile to stay straight (even if he probably wasn’t).

_(G ion think u r)_

_(W a bloke can compliment another aight mione)_

_(G fine ig he gotta b handsome to gain a followin)_

_(P anyway wardstone help ?)_

_(G library first)_

_(P tysm)_

Haha. yeah, so, career choices. What jobs did the wizarding world have anyway? There was no guarantee he would get a profession in DADA and he would still need to make a living. He could probably start up a shop of some sort, business seemed well for the Fortescues- hang on, were there no coffee shops? At all?

Why, that simply wouldn’t do! Maybe that was why Snape was always so pissy! 

He was totally going to open a coffee shop- it was a perfectly average ambition for Charles Brown as well! Everything lined up! He could even name it Coffee Potters because- wait he wasn’t a Potter anymore- He could still call it the Coffee Pot! And make the cups or steam animated so wizards wouldn’t be like ‘Ew I was drinking a muggle thing?’ because it had magic! And he could have his perfectly average life with a hint of secret identity!

So elated in his revelation, he didn’t pay attention to the three human masses that walked past him out the Slytherin common room door after curfew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah my desire for coffee shop au hit when finishing this- so thats a thing now i guess


	7. Dun Dun Dun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things go down

As he was settling into bed, blanket already half covering his legs, his bracelet vibrated with the contents of two frantic messages sent in unison. 

_ (G 7th floor) _

_ (death eaters) _

_ (P ?) _

_ (W Death eaters in castle 7th floor) _

He shot up from his bed, diving into his trunk for the Marauders map and zoning in on the seventh floor, eyes hurriedly scanning the names. Ron and Hermione were at the entrance of the alarmingly empty headmaster’s office, presumably spouting names of different candies. He glanced at the other names active around the halls. 

_ (Dumbledore absent order members 5th floor) _

Death Eaters were pouring out from what seemed like an empty wall, Very close to where Ron and Hermione were. Didn’t he read something in the Daily Prophet about a breakout? He silently berated himself for not expecting something like this sooner. 

He watched Ron and Hermione’s names leave the headmaster’s office, heading towards the stairs. Charles started to get dressed, but then remembered he wasn’t supposed to know anything. He quietly snuck out of the Slytherin common room, covered in his invisibility cloak with the Marauder’s map in hand, determined to find what Malfoy was up to for the last year; how he kept disappearing from the map. The Death Eaters could be handled by the Order members, he was sure. He sprinted his way to the seventh floor, never pausing to ease the stitch on his side. Two Death Eaters emerged from a door he’s never seen before, and it disappeared like it has never existed. Thoroughly perplexed, he absently stunned the two Death Eaters as he memorized the afterimage of the door, hesitantly tearing his gaze away from the wall to watch the map. 

Dumbledore was back. He was on the Astronomy tower. And one Draco Malfoy was with him.

_ (Dumbledore astronomy tower) _ he quickly sent as his feet stumbled with slight surprise, already heading towards the area. He passed a few fights between Order members and Death Eaters on his way there, stunning a few of them as he passed by, running up the stairs to the scene where Dumbledore was, legs burning in his effort.

He arrived at the bottom of the spiral steps leading to the tower, the door above him blown wide open revealing five Death Eaters if including Malfoy. He faltered in his steps, catching his breath as he listened in, climbing up a closed door to his left for a better view.

Dumbledore looked frighteningly frail and almost slumping over. What happened to him? Why was his wand on the floor?

“…shocks you, doesn't that Dumbledore? Frightens you?” a man with matted hair leered, yellowed canines shining. 

“Well, I cannot pretend that it does not disgust me a little,” Dumbledore replied, voice strong despite his posture.

Harry silently sent a body bind curse to the one closest to him, preparing himself to take down the group of them all while staying hidden and watched as the giant man collapsed onto the woman. He accioed Dumbledore’s wand off as Alecto grunted. “What are you doing- get off, get off I tell you, what is wrong with you!?” she wrestled his stiff body as Harry tucked away Dumbledore’s wand in his pajamas, planning to later return it to him through owl. He was just about to curse the other man, but then the door behind him opened, pushing him off his feet, leaving him squished between the wall and door as he frantically checked for any blind spots in his cloak. Satisfied that there were none, he looked up to see who came barging in. It was Snape, face stormy and stricken, jogging up the steps and wand in hand pointing at Dumbledore. Harry realized what Snape was about to before he actively thought of it, denying it with all that he could. Then, 

“Avada Kedavra.”

“No,” a suprised whisper slipped out of him as he stood between the wall and the door, frozen in shock as he watched the Death Eaters flee. He numbly groped blindly for the wand he just put away, checking his reality, disbelieving that it was actually there when he finally felt the old wood. It was cold in his grip, neither accepting or rejecting his hold. The cold air gently snuck into his cloak, a contrast to the sweaty humidity underneath it as the illusion of ever leading a normal life cracked, hanging on a thinnest thread. He checked the map once again, which was now lying on the floor. His friends, he was reminded of as he saw their names in the midst of the Death Eaters. They better not die as well, he thought with renewed vigor, gathering what little fight he had left and rushed downstairs, legs moving automatically into the fight. Spells were thrown everywhere, and had to duck a purple one as he arrived. But then there wasn’t a fight anymore. The Death Eaters were fleeing and there were injured bodies everywhere. He couldn’t see well in the dark, and they could very much be dead. Thankfully, he was distracted when Hermione replied.  _ (G hospital wing meeting come).  _

He wearly dragged his feet to the hospital wing, jogging to catch up to Ginny so the door wouldn’t shut on him, still under his cloak. “Dumbledore might know something that might’ve worked, though! Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore’s orders. Dumbledore owes him, he can’t leave him in this state!” he heard Ron exclaim agitatedly as he surveyed the room. Bill was in a horrible state, face mangled and barely recognizable. The room was full of official order members, excluding Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and himself.

“Ron,” Ginny started. “Dumbledore’s dead,” she stated gently. 

“No!” Lupin cried out, startling him, looking wildly around the room for confirmation. ( _P its true),_ Harry hesitantly confirmed. Ron and Hermione received it at the same time, hands jumping to the bracelets. Thankfully, no one noticed. He proceeded to transfigure a small unseen stool in between the two beds holding Ron and Hermione, settling his invisible body on it. 

“How did he die? How did it happen?” Tonks hesitantly asked as he received question marks from both friends through the bracelet. 

_ (Snape i was at astronomy tower because map 4 death eaters and malfoy snape opened door on me couldnt balance then he did the ak)  _ his hands trembled as he squeezed the bracelet tightly, feeling as if he might break it. His friends grew paler with each decifered word. Hermione looked like she was about to cry. But they couldn’t share this information with the rest of the order out of loyalty to Harry, so they stayed silent. Harry realized this as well, and he wouldn’t let his friends suffer in silence, and it couldn’t do that the order didn’t know this. 

Vanishing his stool, he silently walked shakily back to the door, putting on his Charles Brown appearance once again. He pulled off the cloak as he yanked the door open, disturbing the residents in the wing, giving the appearance that he barged into the wing.

When all eyes were on him, he exclaimed “Snape killed Dumbledore!” with all the conviction and energy he could muster from such an exhausting day, half hysterical. “Sorry, I know i sound crazy now, but I was just at the astronomy tower, clearing my head and all until I saw Dumbledore coming and I hid because i didn’t want to be caught out of curfew but then Malfoy appeared, then some other death eaters and then Snape! He- he shot the bloody.. Avada,” his voice weakened to a tremble, but kept on going, surprising himself with how well he lied. “I’ve been trying to find a teacher but I couldn't, so I thought at least Madame Pomfrey would be here and came here.” he finished exhausted, legs aching and arms heavy as he collapsed in a chair Madam Pomfrey conjured for him.

He listened to the mourning phoenix song, easing their pain with the musical translation of the worst of their grief. His heart clenched painfully like it was trying to hold onto what the phoenix was trying to release out of him, trying to hold onto what little left he had of the man named Albus Dumbledore. 

The room fell silent once again as the phoenix faded away, never to be seen again as the sun started to rise. Professor Mcgonagall entered the ward, slightly injured, robes torn. “Molly and Arthur are on their way,” she said, pulling everyone out of the trance. “Charles Brown, yes? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, noticing him for the first time. 

“Ah, well, considering I just saw Snape kill Dumbledore,..” he winced at how much hatred was in his words and trailed off. “What is this, anyway? An order meeting?” 

“Snape,” McGonagall repeated faintly, looking around for confirmation as Madame Pomfrey seated her as well. 

Lupin was the quickest to recover. “Not to be prejudiced but, how can we trust your word?” he asked, looking intently at Charles. Mcgonagall glared at him, but was waiting for a response as well.

He shrugged. “If there’s a way to provide my memory, sure,” he stated, mentally going over the events that would incriminate hi-  _ oh shit his cloak.  _ “Or better yet just get some veritaserum,” he quickly amended, immensely glad for his reading ahead. Thankfully, Lupin just nodded, seemingly satisfied by his response. 

“But Dumbledore always swore he was on our side,” someone whispered. “I always thought he might know something about Snape that we didn't. “

“Not in front of Mr. Brown, Tonks,” Mcgonagall said briskly. “He’s not in the Order, we can’t have him-”

“Just give me a dreamless sleep potion if you’re going to kick me out,” Charles stated wearily, slightly disturbed by their carelessness. What if he wasn’t actually Harry Potter and a child of a Death Eater? “I can sign a secrecy contract if you really want me to, but I think i might just drop out of Hogwarts, this is my first year here and- and well, look what happened,” he finished, glancing around the room, seeing slightly guilty and startled faces. He continued. “Dumbledore kept this place safe, and now Vol- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might take over, and I’m really not ready for that.” his exhausted mind almost made him slip, no one called the guy by his name. 

“Charles is our friend, professor,” Hermione spoke up, though seemingly misreading his intentions.   


He interrupted her and sent  _ (p If i wanted in i would be Harry Potter rn) _ . “I don’t want to join the order, professors,” he ignored the odd looks his friends gave him. “I came here to have a normal school life, not-” he waved his hand around.”-this mess. I don’t intend on being killed.” he stated firmly. “So, Dreamless sleep or contract?” he asked in the stunned room. 

“How do you know so much about the Order?” Lupin questioned him skeptically.

“I studied up on the war, obviously, and it mentioned ‘Hogwarts staff’ and ‘friends of James Potter’ so it was quite obvious, really,” he drawled as Madame Pomfrey fumbled with her robes and presented a potion. He downed the drink, wondering how absurd and dangerous the next school year would be. Would there be Diarys, immortality, and dementors at the same time?


End file.
